Tape, Stapler, Paperclip
by AQotL
Summary: They should have known it was a bad idea. They should have realized the consequences. Alas, Tony and McGee still tried to teach Ziva David, assassin extraordinaire, how to play Rock, Paper, Scissors. R&R.


**Hello readers!**

**This is just a little oneshot that came to me a while ago, but only now have I had the inspiration to write it. I had been working on two other fics, and decided to work on this when writer's block decided to strike on the other two stories.**

**Anyways, this is a Tony-Ziva-McGee friendship piece set sometime around season 3 or 4. In short, Tony and McGee attempt to teach Ziva how to play "Rock, Paper, Scissors." Of course, neither realizes the consequences of doing so…**

**I hope you enjoy this little piece!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, or any of its characters. I do not own the movie referred to in this story either.**

**Tape, Stapler, Paperclip**

"Okay, somebody needs to tell Gibbs that he's got a flat tire, and it's not going to be me."

Those were the first words out of Tony DiNozzo's mouth as he exited the elevator. He spun his keys around his index finger as he entered the bullpen, and soon sent them flying onto McGee's desk with a metallic thunk.

The geek did not appreciate this gesture and looked up from his computer to glare at Tony. "Why can't you tell Gibbs yourself?" he asked in response to his coworker's previous statement. "You _are_, after all, senior field agent."

Tony appeared taken aback by McGee's suggestion. "Haven't you seen what happens to the Imperial commanders who bring bad news to Darth Vader? If I tell Gibbs, I'd be on the floor gasping for air in seconds! Then _you'd _be senior field agent, and the next to be Force-choked to death."

McGee shook his head at the movie lover's delusional theory. "At most, you'd be headslapped. Gibbs is not a Sith lord. Or a Jedi, for that matter."

"Look in the man's desk, McSkeptic. I swear he has a lightsaber sitting next to his Sig!"

The younger man sighed and tried again. "Why don't we get Ducky to tell him? Gibbs'll listen to him."

Tony was appalled. "That'd be like sending Obi-Wan to confront Darth Vader!" He paused and tilted his head in thought. "Although, there wouldn't be a body to autopsy. He'd just vanish."

McGee groaned, slapping his hand to his forehead in frustration. "Fine, fine. But now who's going to tell Gibbs if we've eliminated most of the choices?"

The two men froze, mischievous grins creeping up their faces as the same idea formed in their minds. Slowly, they turned to the occupied desk at the edge of the bullpen and said in unison, "Ziva…"

The Israeli ninja lifted up the knife she'd been sharpening, its shine reflecting off her bared teeth. Her coworkers immediately took that as a 'no.'

Tony tapped his right foot against the floor in thought for a moment. He then clapped a hand on McGee's shoulder and murmured, "Well, Probie, it looks like it's up to you to tell Gibbs," before heading for his desk.

The McNicknamed agent stopped his friend. "No way. We're going to settle this in a quick, easy, and fair way." Beckoning Ziva over as well, McGee stuck out his right hand – now balled into a fist – and announced, "Rock, Paper, Scissors."

Tony eagerly joined in and held out his fist. Ziva imitated the men, but paused when they were about to start. "What is 'Rock, Paper, Scissors'?"

Tony and McGee's jaws dropped at this question. "You… you don't know what 'Rock, Paper, Scissors' is?"

"No. Should I?"

The senior field agent lifted a hand to his head in disbelief. "Oh, man, how do we explain that?" Choosing his words carefully, he tried to describe the process to Ziva. "Well, you see, 'Rock, Paper, Scissors' is a game people play to make decisions. Who's going to go first, who's going to take a certain responsibility, who's going to do something that nobody wants to do… you get the idea."

Ziva nodded, trying to understand. "How do a rock, a pair of scissors, and a piece of paper come in?"

McGee took over the explanation from there. "Those are the symbols used to make the decisions." He demonstrated the three options with his hand. "Each one has power over another – paper beats rock, rock beats scissors, and scissors beats paper. Does that make sense?"

The Mossad officer vehemently shook her head and tossed her hands in the air. "No, it does not! One can be stoned to death, yes, and a fellow officer of mine once stabbed his mark with a pair of scissors, but paper? That is no weapon at all! What damage can you inflict on someone with a piece of paper?"

McGee pondered this last question. "Well, you could give someone a pretty bad paper cut. They might bleed to death from it."

Tony butted in. "Zee-vah, the point of the game is to _make decisions_, not kill someone!"

Ziva only became more confused. "Then why are the objects used in the game a rock, a pair of scissors, and a piece of paper?"

This merely caused the cinephile's frustration to peak. "Look, I don't know! That's just how it is, okay?" He fell back into his chair, rolling a few feet away from his coworkers. His head in his hands, Tony grumbled, "For all I care, it could be 'Tape'," he thrust his hand towards his tape dispenser, " 'Stapler'," (motioning to the device on McGee's desk), " 'Paperclip'!" He plucked one of the spiraled metal clips off of Ziva's desk and threw it back down. "Would you rather play _that_, Ziva?"

The sole female in the bullpen paused, resting her finger on her chin in thought. She removed it moments later and announced, "I suppose."

"Great. Let's settle this once and for all," Tony muttered as he stood up.

"Wait a second," McGee interrupted. "What are the rules? Which item beats which?"

The juvenile agent glowered and waved his hand around aimlessly. "I don't know. Let's just say tape beats stapler, stapler beats paperclip, and paperclip beats tape. It's not going to make sense anyway. Can we just make our final decision?"

The other two members of Team Gibbs agreed and placed their hands in the center along with Tony's. In unison, they cried, "Tape, Stapler, Paperclip!"

Before anyone could react, Ziva tore a strip of tape off Tony's tape dispenser and placed it on his lips.

The agents stared at her, identical dumbstruck looks on their faces. Tony tried to speak, but the tape prevented him from doing so.

Ziva shrugged at their shock as she headed for the elevator. "What? I chose tape." When the doors opened, she grinned slyly and added, "I will be going down to Abby's now."

"Zvhhhh!" Tony mumbled through the tape, but she was already out of sight.

McGee clapped a hand on Tony's shoulder as he gazed to the back of the bullpen. "You know, I think I'm going to head down to Abby's as well, Tony. Good luck telling Gibbs."

The Italian playboy attempted to protest as the geek exited the bullpen. Seeing his friend's frustration, McGee waved the first three fingers of his right hand in an arc and said, "I'm not the man he's looking for," before slipping into the elevator.

Tony seethed as he watched McGee's retreating figure, and he ripped the tape off his mouth with a little bit more force than was necessary. As he whimpered in pain, footsteps slowed to a stop behind him.

"Got something to tell me, DiNozzo?" Gibbs queried, his hand raised the slightest bit.

Tony prepared himself for the worst by gently placing his hands over his throat before turning to face his menacing boss.

**So there you have it – a funny little friendship piece that I worked on to get over my writer's block. I just didn't expect to finish it so soon!**

**Reviews would be lovely! Tell me your favorite parts!**

**Oh, and to all my "Songs Like This" readers: Chapter 11 was one of the two stories my writer's block decided to strike. It's a really minor issue, so the chapter should still be out this weekend!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**AQotL**


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